Cuddy's Hand
by w8ing4huddy
Summary: This story follows House's Head and Wilson's Heart, covering the days immediately following the bus crash but prior to the beginning of Season 5.


Disclaimer: House M. D. belongs in all entirety to David Shore. Some portions of script below come straight from the show. The rest is mine.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Cuddy sat close beside his hospital bed, her right hand tracing the line of his brow. She had been busy consulting with Foreman about Amber's status when word came telling her of just what Chase and Wilson were up to with House. With House's history, her nurses knew to inform her should they hear word that he was about to do something risqué, whether with a patient or to himself. Still, it wasn't often that they were able to communicate things to her before he'd accomplished his aims.

Cuddy had wordlessly turned her back on Foreman and furiously ran for the surgery wing, hoping to stop them in time. She flew past room after room, pausing briefly to scan within until she finally came to the last surgical procedure room. She was too late. House was convulsing as Wilson and Chase struggled to remove equipment from him and call for assistance. She rushed to House, trying to keep him from flailing until his body went limp. Nurses poured in and took over, transferring his body to a bed in order to wheel him out. Cuddy wanted desperately to follow, but first she had a few things she wanted to say to these two.

"What were you thinking, Wilson?! Deep brain stimulation? His heart only stopped hours ago! He might not recover from this! He could have severe brain damage! What gave you the right to talk him into risking his life?" She was too full of rage to care what his reasons were. Turning to Chase, she angrily shook her finger at him. "And you! You ought to have known better! You should have stopped this madness!" She watched as Wilson just turned and left the room, not meeting her eyes. Then she turned back to Chase, silently demanding an explanation for his part in all this.

"I couldn't have stopped them," he calmly reasoned with her. "Wilson asked for him to do this one thing for him. House blames himself for Amber being on the bus in the first place. How could he refuse Wilson?" He took a deep breath and then said, "She's not going to recover. She had the flu and took pills for it on the bus. Amantadine poisoning. Her kidneys were destroyed in the crash and the dialysis won't be able to filter it out. She's got widespread organ failure. There's no hope."

Cuddy's shoulders slumped and she stood there a minute, taking that piece of information in.

"She's on bypass. We could wake her up. Wilson should have some time with her. She'd want that. She'd want to say goodbye," Chase said sensibly. He didn't really know Amber well enough to know any such thing, but he figured it was a reasonable conclusion to come to.

Cuddy nodded, sighing. "I'll go find him."

-----

Wilson was in his office, staring out the rain-streaked window, grieving for his losses. He heard Cuddy enter and without turning to face her he said, "We should call time of death."

"Technically, she's still alive," she replied. "Could probably survive a few more hours on bypass. We could wean her off anesthesia. Wake her up. Give you a chance to…"

"It would be cruel," he interrupted. "Don't…" He couldn't continue. He shook his head and looked down at his feet.

"Wake Amber up. See her again," Cuddy urged softly. "Tell her what she means to you."

"Wake her up to tell her that she's…that she's…" Wilson couldn't stop the tears any longer. He covered his face with his hands as Cuddy tenderly placed one hand on his arm and the other on his back. He turned around and she stepped into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"You are waking her up so that you can both say goodbye to each other," she told him, trying to reassure him that it was the right thing to do. "She would want it." Wilson started to pull himself back together again. Finally he released Cuddy and walked out of the room to go be with Amber.

-----

Cuddy waited a moment after Wilson left to process things. There was a part of her that was still furious with Wilson for what he'd done. At the same time she understood that desperation to do all you could to save the one you loved. When House's heart had stopped on the bus and the doctor in her took over operating on auto-pilot, she had rushed to him to give him mouth to mouth, but deep inside, in those moments before he had drawn breath, she had felt numb and underneath it all she felt like her heart was in a vise grip; as if everything had come to a standstill and if they failed to restart House's heart, her life as she knew it would never be the same. Then he had come to and she had been so relieved that she wanted to cry, though she had covered for it well by immediately telling House what an idiot he was, always her first instinct when he scared her or did something completely unacceptable.

In the aftermath of discovering Amber had been on the bus, while House and Wilson had gone to Princeton General, she had made her way to her office, sinking into her couch and staring off into the distance. She had known she cared for him. They had known each other a long time and in the last few years they had formed their own odd friendship of sorts. It only made sense. But she could no longer deny to herself how deep those feelings went. She loved House, might even be in love with House.

-----

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she had turned in Wilson's office. She needed to go check on House. She thought about Wilson as she rang the front desk to find out where House had been taken. He was brokenhearted. Tragically, despite giving it his all and House doing everything in his power as well, there would be no happy ending for Wilson and Amber in this. House always said that he loved his job because it gave him the opportunity to solve puzzles, not because he cared so much about saving lives. That was just a byproduct. But Cuddy secretly thought that was a load of garbage meant to preserve his image. She truly believed he lived to save lives, even if only because it gave him a measure of control that he didn't have over his own life, so incapable of saving himself. Regardless, in this moment she couldn't help seeing the irony in knowing that he was unable to save one of the few lives he would wholeheartedly want to save, just to save it. Cuddy told the nurse on duty to clear both House and Wilson's schedules for the next week.

-----

Cuddy gazed at House through the glass doors of the ICU before entering, her pulse rapidly increasing when her eyes fell on his unconscious form in the bed. She had learned from a nurse that his complex partial seizure had been followed by a brain bleed due to the violent shaking that caused his skull fracture to widen while his head had remained firmly attached to the equipment used in the deep brain stimulation. There was nothing they could do now but wait to see if he had suffered cognitive impairment. Taub was in there with him and so she pulled herself together to mask her internal distress. Repressing her desire to run to House and bury her face in his side, sobbing inconsolably, she entered, grabbing his chart from the end of the bed to review the information there. Then she went over to the machines, handing the chart to Taub as he went over House's stats with her.

"You should go home," she finally told Taub. "I'll stay here with him and monitor everything for awhile."

He looked at her and then nodded. After witnessing a day chockfull of tragedy, he was anxious to go home and hold his wife close to him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Cuddy waited until he was gone to draw near to House's side and allow herself to feel all the emotions which raged within. She pulled up a chair, sinking into it, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. She would not cry, she told herself sternly. House needed her. She had to be strong; at least until she knew what she was dealing with. She reached a hand out and ran it over the stubble on his face, tracing his jaw line until her fingers stroked his brow. He really was an idiot, she thought dismally to herself. But he was her idiot.

She kicked her shoes off and dropped her hand to her side, settling in to wait this out. She had no intention of going anywhere. A nurse came and went, checking on his IV line and the levels on the medication he was receiving. Cuddy nodded at the nurse but otherwise sat quietly, waiting for him to open his eyes. And then they did, blinking a few times as he began to regain consciousness. She quickly got to her feet and leaned towards him, one hand grasping the side of the bed.

"Hey. I'm here," she told him, wanting nothing more than to sob in his neck now that he was conscious. She pushed a few locks of hair out of her way as she focused on him. He turned his head slightly but not enough to look at her.

"Blink if you can hear me," she instructed in concern. When he did as requested she gasped in a relieved breath of air, straightening slightly as an overwhelming wave of tranquility swept through her. He was okay. He would survive this.

"I got…" he began, his voice almost undecipherable. She knew what he wanted. He was worried about Wilson. He wanted to go to him. But now wasn't the time for House to be thinking about Wilson. He had to physically recover from this himself.

"No. Shh. Don't try to talk. Just rest," she told him affectionately, her heart swelling with love for this man before her. He closed his eyes as directed; unable in his exhaustion to keep them open a moment more. He fell into a deep sleep with Cuddy at his side.

-----

Cuddy watched over him, never leaving except to use the restroom. She didn't know what the future would hold. She wasn't sure how this would affect the relationship between House and Wilson, whether it would eventually draw them closer together or act like a crowbar and force them far apart. House was obviously worried about that very thing. Then there was her relationship with him. Did they have a future together? Yes, he intentionally sought out opportunities to harass her and made sexual, suggestive comments about her, but what his authentic feelings were towards her she did not have a clue. She wondered if she should tell him she loved him or just hope he'd make his own conclusions about her constant vigilance at his bedside. She thought of the feel of his lips under hers earlier when she performed CPR and imagined what it would be like to have his lips not just drinking in oxygen from her mouth, but returning a kiss brimming with love and desire. But now wasn't the time for such thoughts, she scolded herself, closing her eyes and shaking it away. She curled her legs up beside her in the chair next to his bed and allowed her eyes to close in sleep.

-----

House opened his eyes, unsure as to where he was and what had awoken him. When his vision cleared he saw Wilson standing just within the automatic glass ICU doors watching him and then he remembered. House raised his head from the pillow to focus on Wilson, reading immediately the pain that was easily decipherable on his face. Amber really was dead then. He waited, helpless to do anything. He hoped Wilson would step closer and talk to him, even yell at him. That would be better than this deafening silence. But Wilson just stood there a moment before turning, slipping through the ICU doors, and making his way out of House's line of vision. He watched him go; knowing without having to be told that their friendship might never be the same and that Wilson might never forgive him.

-----

Cuddy woke up a little while later and shifted to check on House. His eyes were open and he was just staring off into space.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, getting to her feet and lifting a hand to rest against the side of his face. He didn't turn his head to look at her, just slowly shook his head to let her know he was not alright.

Concerned, she brought her hand down to his cheek, rubbing it softly. "Are you in pain?"

Once again he shook his head no.

She walked around the bed until she could look directly into his eyes. "What's the matter? What is it?" she asked, reaching out to lay her hand on his heart.

In response a single tear leaked out from his left eye. She moaned softly, feeling his pain as if it was her own before stretching out her other hand to gently brush the tear away. Instinctively she knew Wilson had been here while she slept.

"He was here?" she asked softly, searching the depths of his blue orbs.

It was easier to shake his head from side to side than up and down. "Yes," he whispered after a moment of struggling to make his throat work, before closing his eyes and turning his head to avoid her look of utter tenderness. He didn't deserve it. This was all his fault for calling Wilson from the bar, looking for a ride home.

Cuddy didn't know what to say to comfort him. She didn't think there was anything she could say. House wouldn't appreciate glib words or her trying to reassure him when no one knew how things would play out in the end. She sighed and ran a hand down his arm, caressing his skin softly. "Did he say anything?" she finally asked.

There was no response. Cuddy was almost positive he was still awake, but his eyes remained closed. She figured Wilson had left without saying anything. She thought if either House or Wilson had opened their mouths to speak, she would have heard it and woke up. She let her fingers trail down his forearm and to his hand, careful to not disturb the IV line. She traced the vein in his hand with an index finger, allowing her middle finger to slide along his thumb. Then she slipped her thumb into his palm and curled her fingers around his before bending over and placing a soft kiss to his knuckles. He could make of it whatever he wanted, she decided. In this moment, she was too emotional from almost losing him to stop herself from touching him. She rubbed her cheek against his fingers before straightening and gently releasing his hand, going around the bed until she reached her chair. Then she shifted it a little closer and took one last look as his closed eyes and much beloved face, memorizing it so that in the weeks and months ahead she could close her eyes and see him this way. That way, even if nothing ever took place between them, she'd at least have one bittersweet memory stored away to cup in her hands and treasure. Once she was sure every detail was safely tucked away in her memory bank, she reached forward, slipping her hand into the hand lying nearest to her before falling back asleep.

When Cuddy's breath evened out into that of sleep, House opened his eyes and watched her for several minutes before shifting his eyes to their joined hands. He stared at her hand in his for quite some time before looking away to stare back at the spot where Wilson had last stood. Yet he never broke the hold she had on him. He never had been capable of doing that.

-----

The next morning, just after the fifth time she had asked him if he was sure he didn't want any breakfast, he had given her a look that she immediately recognized to be his attempt to tell her without actually saying it that her concern and coddling were about to drive him crazy. She had immediately stopped talking, though she remained beside him, every once in a while looking at him worriedly. When House finally begged her to give him some time alone, Cuddy ran home briefly to shower and change, grabbing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt so that she could at least be comfortable when she stayed overnight once again at the hospital. She instructed his nurse to let her know if anything came up. She hadn't wanted to go, but she had known he had a right to some privacy. It also gave her an opportunity to let people know she'd be taking a few days off, even if she planned to spend them there at the hospital.

Cuddy called Wilson on the way back to the hospital to check in, but only reached his voicemail. She had honestly expected that. She kept her message brief, asking him to call her if there was anything she could do for him.

When she arrived back at the hospital she headed to her office to do what she needed to do in order to make sure those who needed to know were informed that Wilson would be out of reach for a minimum of the next several days due to a death and that she and House would both be taking time off as well. She then contacted the nursing staff to check into whether or not their schedules had been cleared, as requested the night before. Hearing that even now phone calls were being made to reschedule patients or shift them to other doctors, she hung up satisfied that everything was being handled efficiently.

Knowing that she needed to find something to do to keep her occupied while in House's room, she grabbed a handful of files and forms to fill out. He would never let her stay if she kept hovering. She stopped briefly in the ICU to talk with a nurse and find out how things had gone in her absence before she went to House. The nurse told her that they hadn't heard one peep out of him, which, rather than reassuring the nursing staff, had quite the opposite effect on them, disconcerting them so that they checked on him continuously. Cuddy allowed herself a pained smile. House had developed a reputation of being the worst patient ever and so it came as no surprise that the nurses were thrown by his silence. Word about Wilson's girlfriend's death probably hadn't yet spread to everyone on staff. If it had, there would still be plenty of people who would be blind to House's involvement in the tragic situation. All they would find out from his sheet was that he had suffered a brain bleed due to a seizure following deep brain stimulation, hours after being in a bus accident. House really did have the most complicated patient history ever.

-----

She slipped into the private room in Recovery that House had been moved into, setting her stuff down on a table. House had the television on and while his eyes were glued to the screen, she had a feeling he really wasn't concentrating on what was on. She allowed him his façade, reaching out to skim his chart. When she was satisfied with the updates made on his status, she walked around the bed to check on his IV, casting a sly glance in the direction of the bag where his catheter emptied his urine. The color of his urine looked perfectly normal. She bet House hadn't complained about having the catheter. The few times he had tried to sit up that morning, his head had dully throbbed until he lay back down once again.

"Cuddy, I am a doctor you know," he stated apathetically. "You don't need to check my IV. I would know if there was a problem."

She glanced at him but otherwise ignored his outburst, turning to scan the printouts on the machine monitoring his blood pressure, temperature, and heart rate.

Annoyed, he continued, "And there are nurses who you pay to do that. You don't need to be here. Go do what you do all day long in your office."

She turned to him then and drew close to his side. Knowing that it was best to be as normal as possible with him, she teased, "You mean like put out your fires all day long? Since you are out of commission, things are a bit slow. I figured I could monitor your behavior better from here." Smiling, she reached out and touched his shoulder, which he shrugged off as if she was a pesky fly, his eyes going back to the TV. She watched him for a moment, not offended in the least. Rounding the bed she sat down and reached for the top file, flipping it open and centering her attention on what lay before her, rather than the man whose hand she'd rather be holding, if she thought she could get away with it.

The day passed quickly, various members of his past and present team coming in from time to time to check on him. House was tolerant of their presence in the beginning but Cuddy knew that was coming to an end when she heard someone approaching and caught House closing his eyes to fake that he was sleeping. It turned out to be two "someones;" Taub and Kutner.

House had actually napped off and on throughout the day, still physically exhausted from what he had gone through, including the emotional taxation of the past couple days. But she was becoming a quick study on when he was genuinely asleep and when he was just pretending. She waited until the two guys quietly slipped back out and then whispered, "You're in the clear. They're gone." But his eyes remained closed. "You forget I know you, House," she joked. "Like the back of my hand." She chuckled softly when his jaw twitched, though he persisted in ignoring her. She turned away, watching him out of the corner of her eye. After a few minutes of silence, his eyes opened briefly focusing on her. They shut just as quickly. Her lips curved up in a smile but otherwise she said nothing, picking up another file from the pile. She heard the change in his breathing when he finally did fall asleep once more.

-----

House skipped lunch and she had clucked her tongue in protest but otherwise said nothing. When dinner came he shot her a circumspect glance which she met with a watchful eye. He sighed and accepted the tray, eating almost everything on it before pushing it away from him. She gave him a pleased smile, which he ignored as if he hadn't just eaten simply to avoid an argument with her.

Foreman showed up at 10 p.m. and he stepped in momentarily, motioning for her to join him in the hall. House was snoring softly, his mouth open. She could just make out his features in the glow of the light she had been working by, the rest of the room covered in darkness with the exception of the light seeping in from the doorway.

"Wilson called," Foreman told her once she had closed the door behind her. "He asked me to let you know the funeral is tomorrow. Visitation is from 3 to 5 p.m. The service at the burial site will follow. He sent an e-mail with the information and a map to those he thought might want to attend."

She sighed heavily. "Okay, I'll print it up first thing in the morning. I assume I will see you there?"

"Yeah. I think the rest of House's team plan to attend as well."

Cuddy nodded. "Good," she finally said. "Wilson will appreciate that."

Foreman looked at her for a moment and she wondered what he was thinking. "Cuddy, go home," he instructed then. "You've been here forever. You could stand a good night's sleep in your own bed."

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to leave House alone."

He rolled his eyes and said, "You aren't the only one who can keep an eye on him."

"Are you saying you'll stay with him?" she questioned, taken off guard at the unexpectedness of what he seemed to be offering.

"No," he corrected, as if she had lost her mind to ever interpret his statement that way. He would have to be crazy to stay the night, looking after House. "But I bet Cameron would do it if someone asked her to," he suggested. "She's still around here somewhere. Chase had something come up and I think she planned to wait for him."

Cuddy looked at him, clearly irritated. "Well, thanks for offering Cameron up for this. But I've got it covered. You can go home now." She turned to go back in but he reached out and touched her shoulder. She waited for him to say whatever he felt he needed to.

"Cuddy," he began, sighing dramatically. "Go home. House has been a good boy. You don't have to keep him in line. I haven't heard a single complaint from a nurse today."

She pursed her lips together before speaking, her eyes boring holes into him. "I'm not here because I'm afraid he's going to cause problems."

"Then why ARE you here Cuddy?" he asked seriously, staring at her as if he could read her mind if he looked hard enough. Reluctantly he added, "People are starting to talk."

"Then let them talk Foreman. I don't care!" she replied angrily.

He watched her, his expression softening. "Are you in love with him?" he asked then.

It was none of his business. They both knew that. But she knew if she told him so, he would draw his own conclusions. She wasn't prepared for that, or the scrutiny that would follow it in the days and weeks ahead. He would start to interpret every decision she made that might even appear soft towards House in the days to follow as evidence that she was being unprofessional in her jurisdiction because of her feelings towards House. Eventually he would then start making comments that would bring the attention of others to her. It was best to redirect. She sobered, glancing back at House through the glass so as to evade meeting Foreman's eyes. "When Stacy left after the infarction," she began, "It was Wilson who stayed around to pick up the pieces. I did what I could as his doctor but I hadn't seen House in years and our friendship wasn't what it had once been. This time, Wilson can't be here. I understand that and House doesn't expect him to be. But House and I have developed our own friendship, as dysfunctional and unexplainable as that might be. He's been there when I've needed him. And now I'll be there when he needs me."

Foreman looked at House, four sheets to the wind. "He won't appreciate it," he told her bluntly. "In all the time I've known him, House has never appreciated people concerning themselves with him."

She looked at him then. "I'm not looking for his appreciation. I'm just being a friend to someone who could really use a friend right now."

Foreman nodded then, accepting that he couldn't talk her into going home. He turned and made his way down the hall and out of sight. Cuddy watched him go, her thoughts on how House hadn't brought up Wilson once all day. She wasn't surprised and intentionally chose to leave the subject alone, respecting his silence. She would have to tell him about the funeral though. She knew he wasn't physically up to going, even if he wanted to, but she also knew that House would have no intention of going anyway. Though he might wish to support Wilson in this, Wilson's absence since the night before spoke volumes. House wouldn't be wanted at the funeral. For Wilson, his presence would only serve as a reminder of how Amber's death had come about. This greatly saddened her. She closed her eyes briefly, brushing the thought away before reaching for the door handle and slipping back within.

When she reached House's side she bit back a smile at his snoring. "I lied to Foreman," she whispered then, her eyes gliding over House like a caress. "This goes beyond just friendship. I'm here because I love you. I think I'm in love with you, House." She made the admission without hesitation and then reaffirmed it, wishing she knew his feelings so that she could tell him when he was conscious enough to hear her.

She reached for her overnight bag, slipping in the private bathroom to change. She brushed her teeth and used the facilities before stowing her bag under the sink and hitting the light on the way out. Then Cuddy moved the semi-reclining chair that was in the room for family members who opted to spend the night until it was beside the bed. After flipping off the light on the table, she then curled up in the chair, a blanket over her to keep her warm. Once she was settled in, she snuck her hand out from under the blanket and rested her arm on the bed beside House, once again taking his hand in hers. She fell asleep not long after, also exhausted. The last sound she heard was House's soft snores. The last thought to cross her mind was how she could get used to this.

-----

House slept straight through the night, waking up grateful to find that the medications they had put him on knocked him out so efficiently. They had obviously upped his dosage since the night before, now that he was awake and responsive. The reality was that thinking only left him feeling empty inside. The guilt, the grief, the feeling of having failed, both as a doctor and as a friend; it was all overwhelming. Logically, he knew that there was nothing he could have done to have saved Amber's life after the accident happened. But everything leading up to the accident was on his shoulders. If he had never gone to the bar, if he had taken a cab instead of selfishly looking for Wilson to bail him out once again and come get him, if he had sent Amber packing like he should have, if he had paid his own bill and left with her in her vehicle, if, if, if. The list of what he should have done differently was miles long. The insomnia he usually suffered from would have made this all unbearable. He just wanted to numb the pain and not feel it for a while. The medication allowed him that.

He turned his head to find Cuddy once again asleep at his side, hand in his. He released her hand quickly, dropping it so that it lay on the bed and his in his lap. He had been selfish the night before this to maintain the connection she had established between them in holding his hand. When Wilson had walked away, he had been weak and desperate for the comfort she had willingly offered. He had been far from in his right mind. But this couldn't go on. He couldn't encourage this. He knew they were friends, in some way that defied definition, but she was beginning to care too much and he could now see this all going terribly bad in the not so distant future.

The truth was that he had feelings for Cuddy. Feelings he intentionally avoided thinking to any depth about. He knew he had scared her in the last couple days with his close calls, but the fact that she cared enough to justify to herself staying by him both day and night was an issue he would have to deal with. He couldn't allow her to get that close. He had to push her away. If he didn't, she would only get hurt. He was incapable of not hurting those who came to care for him. All one had to do was look at Wilson to see that. If he could hurt Wilson so terribly, a man who had been there for the highs and lows of his life unfailingly up until this breaking point, then he didn't deserve anyone's friendship, let alone whatever Cuddy might begin to feel for him if he didn't drive her away now. He had erred greatly with Wilson in not just allowing but embracing him as his best friend. It was too late; there was nothing he could do for Wilson to protect him now. He could only offer him the space he needed to deal with the destruction House had wrecked in his life. Wilson would have to evaluate whether or not he still wanted to be friends with the man who was at fault for the death of the woman he loved. And he wouldn't blame him if he decided House wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth it. It only made sense for Wilson to find him detestable. Sadly, House was just as positive that there would come a time in the future when he would go after Wilson, mainly because he really was needy and Wilson had always been the friend he relied upon. But Cuddy, Cuddy he now felt responsible to protect. They hadn't yet shared anything that he could conceive her grieving over if she was to lose it. Heading things off early was something he felt responsible to do not because she was weak and couldn't take care of herself. She was a lot of things, but weak wasn't one of them. No, it was because he hurt her all the time already, oftentimes carelessly and cruelly. The last thing she deserved was to grow to care for him deeply and then have him afflict her with wounds she might not be capable of bouncing back from. She was trying to fill Wilson's shoes at the moment and be the friend she thought House needed and somehow deserved right now. But the truth was that he didn't merit anyone standing at his side or holding his hand through this life event. He deserved his misery. He had brought this upon himself and now he deserved to sleep in the bed he had made. There was nothing for it. He would have to make Cuddy see reason, even if it meant hurting her to protect her from greater injury down the road.

-----

Cuddy woke up slowly, not immediately aware of where she was. She only knew that she felt cramped in a small, confined space and desperate to stretch her aching muscles. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on House. Then she remembered.

She got to her feet slowly, groaning when her head throbbed. Her neck was stiff and she moved her head in circles to work the kinks out before stretching. House turned to look at her but did not comment. She smiled and said, "I really should move new furniture for sleep-over guests higher up on my list of hospital priorities." When he remained silent, she grew concerned. "Are you okay? How did you sleep?"

House looked away before coolly replying, "Cuddy, you don't need to worry about me. I'm not your responsibility."

She frowned then and approached the bed. "Of course you aren't my responsibility. But what if I want to worry about you?"

"You shouldn't," he told her forcefully.

She wondered briefly where this was coming from. "And why is that?" she reluctantly inquired, not sure where this was going.

He sighed and shifted in the hospital bed, putting off answering. When she continued to patiently await his response, he grudgingly muttered, "Because I don't deserve it."

She melted then, reaching out to stroke his cheek with compassion for what he must be going through, but he jerked his head away, shooting her a glare.

"I don't want your pity, Cuddy," he angrily huffed.

To be honest, his rejection and defensiveness kind of pissed her off. She drilled a finger into his chest, leaning closer to him to force him into maintaining eye contact. "It's not pity I feel for you, you idiot. It's a little thing called compassion."

"Yeah, well I don't want it," he said spitefully.

"Well that's just tough, isn't it?" she declared. "Because whether you want it or not, you're getting it."

He remained silent, just staring intently up at her and she hovered where she was, only inches separating them, refusing to back down. Finally he broke the intense look between them. "You've got morning breath," he grumbled, reaching for the remote and intentionally leaning away from her to aim it around her and turn the TV on.

"And you're deflecting," she shot back at him, but she turned to make her way into the bathroom to make herself presentable all the same.

-----

Cuddy took her time in the bathroom, contemplating what had just taken place between them. As she brushed her teeth she couldn't help but wonder just how bad her morning breath was, even though she knew he had said it to deflect from any further discussion that might in any way focus on emotions or feelings. It can't be that bad, she finally reassured herself. He would never have allowed me that close and then maintained eye contact if it truly was something frightful. She changed back into what she had worn the day before, simply because the only other spare outfit she had was in her office. After hearing about the funeral, she hadn't even bothered to go get it because she'd have to go home to find something suitable and shower anyway. She washed her face, contemplating just how to tell House about the funeral.

-----

Cuddy opened the bathroom door to find House waiting for her, something obviously on his mind. "What?" she asked suspiciously, watching him closely as she tried to discern what he wanted to talk to her about now. She set her bag of things on the table to take home with her while she waited for him to speak.

"When can I get outta here?" he asked, his tone indicating he was impatient to check out.

She sighed and contemplated his question. Honestly, she ought to have been surprised he hadn't asked this yesterday. "We'll have to do another MRI and see where your head trauma stands in the process of recovery. I can probably get you in this afternoon. But even if I like what I see, I'm not releasing you before tomorrow, House."

He scrutinized her face for signs of weakness but she remained impassive. "I'll make you a deal," he finally offered.

She laughed derisively. "As if you could check out without my permission," she then replied.

"I have my ways, Cuddy," he smugly informed her. "You can't really keep me here against my will."

"Watch me call for restraints," she jauntily pronounced.

"Will you just listen to my offer?" he finally asked, though his tone was a little bitter following the mention of restraints.

"Alright, House. Make it good," she relented, raising an eyebrow warily.

"Okay, I will stay until tomorrow. Tomorrow morning," he then emphasized. "But my conditions are that you get this IV and catheter out of me so I can regain some autonomy here and leave this bed to exercise my leg. And I want some privacy while I shower."

"That's all you want?" she probed suspiciously.

The corners of his mouth turned up ruefully. "It'd be nice if you'd send one of my team to my house to pick up a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow," he added. "I can't stand these hospital gowns."

"Done!" she agreed. "If everything checks out when we get a look inside that head of yours, you'll be restored to your own reconnaissance tomorrow. At least while you are outside the walls of my hospital. When you're inside these walls though, know that I will still be monitoring you closely."

He rolled his eyes. "Like that's a new development," he muttered before mockingly provoking her by asking, "So I have permission to remove this IV and catheter, mommy?"

"I'll do it," she said, coming around the bed.

"You can do the IV but I'll handle the catheter on my own," he warned, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She smiled saucily at him but removed the IV and then turned away to give him the privacy he needed to remove the catheter. She grabbed a bedpan and waited for him to clear his throat, indicating he had finished before turning, unhooking the urine collection bag, and dropping it carefully within. She then extended the bedpan in his direction for him to coil the tubing within as well. Once the task was completed, she strode to the door to go dispose of it. She paused in the doorway, turning back to look at him.

"What?" he finally asked when she still remained silent.

"I won't be around much today," she then told him seriously.

He laughed and said, "And just who do I have to thank for that blessed turn of events? I'll finally have some peace around here." The minute the words left his mouth, he realized from her countenance what she had been trying to tell him. His face took on a pained expression and he dropped his gaze. "I didn't…" he tried to say.

"I know," she reassured immediately. "You were just…being you. Is there…Do you want me to say anything to him for you?"

He shook his head, still avoiding her eyes. "There's nothing to say."

She nodded in understanding. "House, I…"

"Cuddy," he interrupted. "You should really go then. I'm sure you have a lot to do."

"I'll stop and grab some stuff from your apartment on my way back after the funeral," she told him then, not knowing what else to say.

He nodded and met her gaze. The look of utter sadness within his eyes broke her heart. But just as quickly, the expression was gone and his poker face came on. "Thanks," he murmured.

"I'll send a male nurse in to help you out of bed and stand by the bathroom door while you shower. I'll instruct him to leave you alone in there and not enter unless you call for him," she said, her voice soft with emotion.

House was not surprised by this move on her part. He nodded almost imperceptibly before looking away and she reluctantly slipped quietly out the door.

-----

Cuddy made her way to her office to print up the e-mail and map Foreman had informed her of. She had returned to House's room after speaking to a nurse but only long enough to grab her things. She wanted to try and lighten the sobriety of his mood, maybe tease that she was only grabbing her stuff to keep him away from her undergarments, but it didn't feel right to joke with him then and so she came and went, allowing him his silence. Cuddy quickly did what she needed to do, scanning her other e-mails for anything she might have to deal with immediately. Satisfied, she then made her way to her car, praying that she'd be able to support Wilson as he needed her to in the hours ahead.

-----

Cuddy arrived early for the visitation, planning to keep close to Wilson's side throughout the day just in case he needed her. They were friends and had become even better friends over the years, but generally their friendship and interactions revolved around House and so she was a little uneasy about just how to approach him today. He spotted her the moment she walked in however and embraced her immediately. He began to cry softly and she hushed and soothed, at ease then with how to support him today. After a minute or two he managed to pull himself together and began to introduce her to people as they arrived. There was a good turnout. A lot of family members, friends, and co-workers, both Amber's and Wilson's, showed up to pay their respects. Cuddy sat beside him during the ceremony, one hand gently clasping his upper arm. He stood up to speak, remaining composed throughout his speech, and only breaking down when he approached the casket to say his goodbyes. Cuddy watched, silent tears sliding down her cheeks as he bent over and placed a gentle kiss to Amber's forehead, cheek, and lips. She waited for him to sit back down beside her and then rubbed his back soothingly; knowing nothing she could say would be of more comfort to him today than her presence at his side.

She followed the processional to the graveyard and when it was all over she reached for him and held him close once more. "Call me if there is anything I can do for you," she whispered, her hand sliding down his arm and to his hand to give it a squeeze.

He nodded, using a handkerchief to mop his eyes. "Okay," he agreed then. "Thank you, Lisa."

"I'm here for you," she told him softly, "Whenever you need me." Then she turned and made her way back to her vehicle, driving slowly back to her place to change into something comfortable and pack for one more night of staying at the hospital before she headed to House's apartment to grab his clothes as requested.

-----

"Looks like you are out of here tomorrow," she told House as she entered his hospital room that night, reviewing the scans of his head. She handed him his apartment key that she'd grabbed from his office, along with an overnight bag she'd packed with deodorant, toothbrush & toothpaste, pajama pants, a couple t-shirts, boxers, socks, her favorite blue shirt of his, and a pair of slacks that had been sitting on a chair but appeared presentable upon scrutiny. Then she set another bag with an appetizing aroma seeping from it on his tray table.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at it briefly as he dug through the overnight bag to see what she'd brought him.

"I figured you were probably tired of hospital food," she admitted, pleased with his interest. "I stopped and picked you up a reuben at the deli down the street, along with an order of fries."

"Nothing to drink?" he asked then, making her laugh and shake her head in amusement.

"There's a pop machine down the hall. You could stand the exercise. Go down there and get something yourself," she told him jauntily.

"But I don't have any money on me," he pouted, feigning the petulance one would normally find in a child.

Cuddy rolled her eyes at him but moved towards him to help him up to his feet. "Come on. I'll buy. I should go with you anyway."

"Could you hand me my cane? It fell under the floor when I bumped it and I didn't feel up to retrieving it," he told her then, motioning to where the handle jutted out into view.

Cuddy bent and retrieved it, not oblivious to House trying to look down her shirt in the process.

"It's good to see the twins again," he ragged as he pushed himself up from the bed.

"Looks like the old House is back," she said in fake annoyance. "Guess it's good to see that your brain wasn't further addled during the deep brain stimulation," she then quipped.

He smiled cheekily at her, wrapping his left arm around her for support, his right holding the cane. "Help me to the bathroom first so I can change into the pajamas you brought me?"

"Sure," she agreed, walking him to the door before leaving his side to retrieve the pajama pants and one of his t-shirts. "Want the boxers too?" she asked hesitantly, somewhat embarrassed to ask this.

"No," he replied, shaking his head from side to side. She was thankful that he didn't say anything more but took what she handed, placed it inside on the countertop, and then closed the door behind him.

She waited until he came back out and then stepped back under his arm to assist him. When his left hand crept in the direction of her chest, she caustically warned him, "Move that hand another inch and I'll place my three-inch heels somewhere leaving you impotent for life."

He laughed throatily, the sound of it sweeping over Cuddy like a wave of liquid fire, before he released her from assisting him so she could open the door to the hallway. She held the door open and waited for him to pass through before following. When he paused, waiting for her to return to his side, she shook her hand and crossed her arms over her chest. "Use the wall to support you if you need it so bad," she muttered scornfully.

"You just have your panties in a twist because you went digging through my underwear drawer and found things you liked," he goaded.

She snorted disdainfully. "You are confusing me with yourself. I grabbed those t-shirts, boxers, and the socks from on top of the dryer and the pants from the closet. I didn't go anywhere near your drawers." Cuddy didn't tell him though about how she had been unable to refrain from picking up the gray t-shirt lying on his bed that he had worn the night she stayed at his place to keep an eye on him, breathing in the scent of him.

"Yeah, but what aren't you telling me?" he asked curiously, having seen the expression that momentarily crossed her face.

"Wouldn't you just like to know?" she teased him then, sashaying past him in the direction of the pop machine.

He watched her hips swing from side to side in admiration before finally stretching out an arm and using the wall to assist him as she'd directed. She waited for him to make his selection once he finally reached her side and then put the money in the slot. Bending over, she pushed open the door and grasped a hold of his pop, feeling his eyes on her derriere and striving hard to ignore it. She straightened and motioned for him to walk ahead of her.

"Come on, Cuddy," he moaned. "Help a cripple out."

She sighed but did slide herself under his arm once again to assist him back to the room.

-----

Eleven o'clock rolled around and Cuddy began to tire out due to a long, emotionally draining day. She had sat with House while he ate his food, making conversation about anything and everything except the hours she'd been gone to attend the funeral. Neither House nor she herself had the heart to stir those waters. She just strove to take advantage of her last night with him in the hospital. He seemed content to allow her to. But when she stood and reached for her bag, removing her pajamas from within so that she could change into them, he stopped her.

"No," he began firmly. "You need to go home, Cuddy."

She pouted before she could help herself. "But I want to stay here!"

He shook his head, his eyes serious. "Listen, you've gone over and above your job as my self-appointed keeper. You have to go home now."

"But I'm not here because I'm trying to keep you in line!" she protested. "Why does everyone think that?!"

House groaned, throwing a hand up to rub his face hard. He didn't want to contemplate what everyone was thinking. "Cuddy! Go home!"

"But I'm not just your boss, House. I'm your friend too," she pressed on, her voice now sad.

He dropped his hand to his lap, his shoulders sagging as he sighed dramatically. "Cuddy, I know. Believe me I know. But this can't go on. It's not like I'm going to let you come home with me tomorrow and take care of me indefinitely. Up to this point, I've allowed it. But now it's clear that I did you a disservice by doing so."

She shook her head, denying his words. "I know I can't come home with you."

"But you don't deny wanting to. That's what concerns me, Cuddy," he finally said, his voice gentler but still firm.

She looked away, unable to reply in a way that would convince him to dismiss her hovering. She tried desperately to keep the tears at bay. She really was still worked up from all the emotions she'd gone through while at the funeral today.

He waited for her to turn back to him, unsure what to say. He wasn't good with this kind of thing. He was trying to be noble, trying to protect her. But he really didn't want to hurt her if he could help it.

Cuddy finally turned back in his direction and after a moment made her way to the bed. She didn't raise her eyes to his until she was sure she could contain her tears. "You scared me when your heart stopped on the bus," she finally admitted. "And then following what happened with the deep brain stimulation…" She broke off, unable to go on.

He wanted to reach out and touch her. He wanted it so bad. But he knotted his hands in the sheets to restrain himself from that act of tenderness. "Yeah, I got that," he replied, acerbically. "But you saw the MRI yourself and as long as I take it easy, I should be fine."

"You don't know that," she argued fiercely.

He bit back a smile initially but then remembered the reason why he was trying so hard to keep her at a distance and his face became impassive. "But if I'm not, I only have myself to blame."

Cuddy sucked in a ragged breath of air, desperately wanting to tell him that she loved him, that she needed him. But in his eyes she could see that he was not interested in hearing those words. She watched him turn away from her, so terribly grieved for what he was going through, even if he did a thorough job of concealing it for the most part.

"Go home, Cuddy. I don't want you to stay," she heard him say. And then the tears began to fall and she turned, blindly reaching for her things and hurrying out the door.

-----

Cuddy scrubbed at her eyes with one hand as she quickly made her way to her office, thankful that the hospital was quiet and quite deserted at this hour. She shut the door behind her and locked it before she broke down completely. Once she had finally pulled herself together, she went to her desk and began to work in haste, trying to push away all that she was feeling tonight. She probably should head home, but she knew if she went to her car now, she'd only end up crying again. House was hurting and she could do nothing for him. Wilson was grieving and she was in love with the man he blamed for Amber's death. Cuddy herself had newly discovered the depths of her feelings for her star diagnostician, and he wanted nothing to do with her. She felt like a fool, but she was helpless to be anything less than one. No, going home would do nothing to improve her situation or her mood. She needed to bury herself in her work. It was the only thing left for her that she felt competent enough to do.

-----

By 1 a.m., Cuddy was struggling to keep her eyes open. She went into her bathroom and changed into her pajamas, deciding to camp out on her couch. But when she lay down, sleep would not come. She lay there, watching the minutes tick by. When twenty minutes had passed and she still was not asleep, she angrily pushed herself to her feet. House was not her boss, she told herself. Fine, he didn't want to start anything with her. That she had no choice but to accept. But she was NOT going to let him tell her what she could and could not do. Not tonight. She grabbed her pants, shirt, and shoes from earlier and strode off back in the direction of his room. When she reached it, she paused to calm herself down and watch him sleep a moment before quietly easing the door open. Setting her things carefully down on the floor, she made her way silently to the chair where she had slept before. It hadn't moved from its position, because she had been sitting by House's side in that same chair earlier while he ate, but it wasn't reclined as it had been when she slept in it either. She contemplated reclining it, but the last thing she wanted to do was risk waking House up and having to deal with him now if she didn't have to. This thought making her mind up for her she sat down and did the best she could to make herself comfortable in an upright position. She could see House's hand, easily within reach. But she wasn't going to press her luck. She left him alone and drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep, appeased enough just by being back by his side.

-----

House startled himself awake at 2 a.m., right in the midst of a bad dream in which he had gone to talk to Wilson, only to have him turn on him, punching him and yelling about how he'd killed Amber and he never wanted to see House again, as long as he lived. It took him a minute to calm his breathing and realize where he was. When he did, his eyes fell on Cuddy, once more beside him. For a moment he was livid to see her there after having tried so hard to drive her away only hours ago. But then he realized that she was shivering without the blanket she'd used the night before. He next thought back to how sore she'd been when she'd woken up that morning. She didn't even have the chair reclined, probably to avoid waking him and having to deal with his wrath, he thought ruefully. He scrutinized her face and recognized how puffy her eyes were. She had been crying since she left him. That realization twisted the proverbial knife in his heart. He sighed softly, caving in his resolve before reaching over and shaking her shoulder gently. "Cuddy," he murmured. "Wake up."

"What?" she moaned, her eyes blinking in confusion. "House?"

He waited until she was awake enough to comprehend where she was and how she had ended up there. He watched her face as awareness crept over her features when she realized he had sent her packing and now he knew she'd come back regardless. Cuddy looked momentarily as if she was about to put up a fight, expecting him to yell at her. But before he could say anything, she melted and he saw her face fall. Immediately he knew the waterworks were about to begin. Before she could start to cry, he scooted back to the far side of the bed. "Come on," he encouraged her. "You can't spend another night in that chair. And you're freezing. Get up on the bed with me."

It took her a moment to process his words, as they weren't what she'd been expecting. "Huh?" she then murmured softly.

"Cuddy," he muttered, allowing a trace of ire to seep into his voice, "Get up on this bed with me right now."

She slowly unwound her body from the chair and stood up, more to see his face better in the darkness than to actually do what he said. When she realized he was serious, she looked at him doubtfully. "No, I might hurt you," she replied. "That bed isn't big enough for the two of us and I might move and jar you in my sleep."

"Cuddy, the bed is plenty big enough for the two of us, if we both sleep on our sides. Now come on. You're eating into my sleep time every minute you spend arguing with me." He lifted the blankets up, waiting for her.

Hesitantly, she shuffled forward and then turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?" she asked, waiting until she saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them at her, before scooting a little bit farther on and swinging her legs up and under the blankets House was holding up for her.

"Hold on a second," he instructed, as he sat up.

"What are you doing?" she asked nervously, turning her head to look behind her and find his eyes in the dark.

"Would you relax?" House told her in aggravation. "I'm pulling the stupid curtain around the bed."

She listened to it glide along the bar as he pulled it along. "Why?" she anxiously inquired.

"Because I'm not an idiot! After you left, I snapped at the nurse so I strongly doubt anyone will dare to step foot in here before eight o'clock in the morning. But anyone who walks by here and even happens to glance in is going to come to one of two conclusions if I don't pull the curtain around us. Either that I'm so needy right now that you couldn't help yourself and felt you had to sleep here with me to comfort me as I had some sort of meltdown and sobbed hysterically into your shoulder or something; which I don't need. Or that you just couldn't resist me any longer and climbed up here with the intention of jumping me; which you don't need. Though I definitely think that one's pretty close to the truth," he added, tauntingly.

"House, if you even touch me I will pull a Lorena Bobbitt on you so fast…" she began threateningly as he lay back down in the bed next to her, sliding his left arm under the angled pillow their heads were sharing to make himself more comfortable.

He reached for her then with his right arm, curling it over her and pulling her back until she was pressed up against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. She gasped at the action but before she could open her mouth to respond verbally, he lifted his arm once again to comb his fingers through her curls, tucking them down and out of his face but exposing her ear and the curve of her neck in the process. "Cuddy, would you just go to sleep?" he whispered in her ear, his hand then falling onto the side of her right hip, which was snuggly tucked into his, holding her close.

She struggled to breathe normally then, trying desperately to think of a comeback while her senses were being bombarded with the essence of Gregory House. Cuddy was still lying there, still trying to come up with a suitable response, when she heard his breathing even out. The sound of his gentle snores quickly trickled into her ear, relaxing her in his embrace and lulling her into her own dreams.

-----

House woke up the next morning at 7 a.m., relaxed but physically trapped somehow in the position he was in. He hadn't moved at all during the night, but Cuddy had. She had turned at some point so that she was facing him, her head tucked into his chest. But what really struck him was how her left leg was now draped over his thigh, holding him to her, while her left arm wrapped under his right and then around him, her fingers buried in the hair at the nape of his neck. He could feel her warm breath on his chest and something inside him stirred at the thought of how perfect this moment felt to him, even though nothing truly inappropriate had happened between them. At that thought, his body then responded to her and he was helpless to stop it. He took a deep breath, trying to bring his body back under control, but all he succeeded in doing was making it worse as he inhaled a swirling mixture of Cuddy's shampoo, her perfume, and the scent that was all Lisa Cuddy.

She moaned then, arching into him, her pelvis already tightly pressed against his from the beginning. He bit back a groan, rather unsuccessfully. Cuddy's eyes immediately popped open, though he couldn't see that as her face was buried in his chest. When she moved ever so slightly though, he realized that despite what he had initially thought, he had changed position as well, to an extent. The hand that had been on her left hip the night before had moved with her but in the opposite direction as she turned in to him, landing on her right hip, but sliding up along her waist and under her shirt. He knew the exact moment Cuddy was awake because she gasped loudly into his chest, which only caused her to rock into him and feel how his body was responding to her presence, all the more. He laughed then, unable to stop himself.

"House, you better remove your hand right this minute," she scolded him, her voice muffled from where she remained tucked into him, not doing a thing herself to pull away.

"You're blaming me?" he questioned disbelievingly, drawing his head back a bit to try and find her eyes.

She looked up and huffed, "Well I certainly didn't put your hand there!"

"Well maybe not," he replied sarcastically, "but I'm not the one with my hip draped over your thigh, my face pressed into your chest, and my arm threaded through yours to tangle my fingers in your hair."

Her eyes shot open and he looked on in amusement as she realized exactly how she had entwined herself with him while asleep. She bit her lip in mortification and he moved his hips to rock his pelvis into her once again, purely to antagonize. But then she threw her head back, moaning, and he realized that she wasn't unaffected by this. Or at least that her outrage wasn't the only reaction she was experiencing due to their closeness. He stared at her in surprise, forgetting all about his hand and the intention he had to remove it when she asked him to. But before he could do or say anything, she had come out of it, her eyes flashing.

"Will you stop that?" she yelled, referring to what he'd just done.

He snatched his hand from her waist and quickly covered her mouth, trying not to get distracted by the creamy skin of her belly that he'd revealed in the process. "Shh! Do you want the nurses to come running and find us like this?"

She quieted then and he dropped his hand from her mouth. "I…I…I" she began, but then grew frustrated with her inability to speak and thrashed about, struggling to disentangle herself from him. Somehow as she was removing her arm and leg from his body, she kicked him in his bad thigh, right as she toppled off the other side of the bed and through the curtains, landing half in the chair and half out. House was blinded by a white slash of pain but he somehow managed to keep himself from screaming, hissing out the air in his lungs until he could focus on whether or not Cuddy was alright.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern, his own face ashen as he peered out from between the curtains and looked down upon her.

The breath had been knocked out of her and it took her just as long as it took him to regain her speech. "Yeah," she reassured him, trying to sit upright and only achieving it after her first two tries failed. She looked at him then and realized that he wasn't doing so well. Sweat was trickling down his face and his countenance was incredibly pale. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"

He tried to smile but it ended up being more of a grimace. "You kicked me on your way down," he finally was able to explain, still heaving deep breaths of air.

"Where?" she questioned in horror, rising to her feet and pulling open the curtains as she did so. "In your bad leg?"

"Well I'm not holding my groin," he quipped sarcastically, both of his hands holding his thigh on either side of where she knew his scar to be.

"Oh House," she murmured softly, reaching out for him. "I'm so sorry. I knew I would hurt you if I got into bed with you last night!"

He laughed then, using a sleeve to mop the sweat from his brow.

Cuddy closed her eyes, realizing what she had said and how that could be taken. "A-a-a-argh," she groaned, as she hurriedly dropped her hand to her side. "Don't you EVER use this against me!" she warned, shaking a finger at him.

"What? You mean how you got into bed with me last night? Or how I woke up with you practically molesting me this morning? Or are you referring to how you fell out of bed and savagely injured a man barely back from the brink of death?" he asked seriously, as if in need of clarity on the subject.

Her eyes flashed again. "None of it," she declared haughtily. "Or so help me I will…"

"Dismember my body piece by piece and feed it to sharks?" he finished.

"Exactly," she replied sternly.

"I'll make a deal with you. I won't mention any of this if you will drop this ridiculous need to take care of me and put the last few days behind us, returning to your rightful place as boss and allowing me to once again be the obnoxious, narcissistic, jerk employee that everyone knows and loves to hate," he offered.

Her face softened and she said, "But I don't hate…"

"Cuddy!" he interrupted, holding out a hand for her to shake and seal the deal.

Albeit reluctantly, she reached out and took his hand in hers, shaking it. "Deal."

"Good," he responded, tugging his hand back.

"Your thigh's alright then?" she asked, still concerned.

"Yeah. Nothing a truckload of Vicodin won't cure," House answered immediately.

"House, if I'm going to release you this morning, you better swear to me that you will be careful with your prescription dosages. And you must stay home and rest. You can't overdue it. And furthermore, no alcohol whatsoever until you've recovered from this! Do you promise?" Cuddy gave him a stern look to prove she was one hundred percent serious.

"Cuddy, I'm a doctor! I know all these things!" he informed her in irritation.

"Do you promise, House? Otherwise I am rescinding my offer to check you out today," she stressed.

"Today? What makes today any more special than any other day? You check me out every day," he instantly quipped.

"House!" she chided heatedly.

"Fine," he huffed out, saluting her with two fingers to his forehead. "Scouts honor."

"That's better," she replied, satisfied. She nodded and grabbed her clothes, striding into the bathroom to change before slipping out of his room when no one was looking.

-----

House went home that day and began the process of recovery while Cuddy, true to her word, never mentioned those few days in the hospital following Amber's death to him or anyone else. As the days went by she did her best to bury those feelings back deep down within, knowing that she couldn't get rid of them completely but that whatever was meant to be would be and either the day would come when he'd return her feelings or she'd move on with her life, which was easier to do now that his life was no longer in mortal peril and she had other things to occupy herself with, such as the knowledge that her star oncologist was on a leave of absence for an unspecified length of time and she had to make sure his patients were covered while he was gone. True to his word, House never brought up any of it either. He was actually relieved that things had gone down as they had because he wasn't sure how else he could have pushed Cuddy away without hurting her. He spent a few days at home but then returned to work, desperate to have something to do to keep his mind from dwelling on his misery regarding what had happened with Amber. He waited for the day his friend would come back to work, leaving him completely alone in the meantime in hopes that when Wilson did return, they might be able to salvage something from the friendship they had before the bus accident. House didn't know if that was possible, but he hoped it was. He was miserable without his buddy and miserable because he knew his buddy was miserable as well. He waited and waited for the day Cuddy would seek him out to let him know Wilson would be returning. That was really all he could do.


End file.
